


Unwritten Copy

by melliyna



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 14:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melliyna/pseuds/melliyna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for <a href="http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/"><b>oxoniensis</b></a>'s Porn Battle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwritten Copy

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[fandom: generation kill](http://melliyna.livejournal.com/tag/fandom:+generation+kill), [fic](http://melliyna.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [fic: drabbles](http://melliyna.livejournal.com/tag/fic:+drabbles), [fic: porn battle](http://melliyna.livejournal.com/tag/fic:+porn+battle), [pairing: colbert/fick](http://melliyna.livejournal.com/tag/pairing:+colbert/fick)  
  
---|---  
  
_**[Fic: Generation Kill: Unwritten Copy**_  
**Title:** Unwritten Copy   
**Fandom:** Generation Kill   
**Pairing:** Colbert/Fick   
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Length:** 500  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, no profit made   
**Spoilers:** None specific   
**Summary:** Originally written for [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/)'s Porn Battle   
[here](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/394717.html?thread=21900765#t21900765)

For Evan Wright, words are a currency. Untangling the hidden meanings, the messages and making sense of them are what makes him such a master trader, why he lives best here, on the edges of a group of soldiers - in sand, dirt, heat and itchy sweat stains. He's always lived best in the edges, the dangerous edge of things, from the way he grinned when the knife was pressed to his throat, Trombley smirking behind him to the Iceman and Lieutenant Fick.

Which is why he's watching now. Nate Fick, pretty mouth, ivy league vocabulary, modern day officer and a gentleman. He'd fallen in love, under his spell and laughed at himself for it, even as he knew he was doing it. Nate Fick, Brad Colbert's dick in his mouth. On his knees, in the sand but still so fucking strong. Colbert is moaning something eloquently, probably profanity laced. His hands are all over Nate, who is pressing himself closer. Evan looks at his own hands, knuckles white around his notebook, doesn't even want to make a studied analysis of what his dick may be doing.

Feature writer, Evan Wright and the fixation on Nathaniel Fick and his green eyed gaze. He wants to capture him, claim him in the words on the page, the insights in to his character or so is the delusion spin. It's more raw than that, god fucking obviously. A pole digs in to his side, his eyes are transfixed. They've stripped, now in the relative privacy they've found, clothes pooling around them. Nate Fick, pressed against a hard surface, sinfully pretty, moaning in to Brad Colbert - somehow warrior, man, pretty boy whore all at once.

Brad Colbert, fucking Nate Fick. Evan Wright, he who cannot help but transpose himself, rewriting this scene in a different way. In which Nate Fick would speak such words to him, not his Sergeant. Not letting Colbert fuck him, legs wrapped around his body. Not watching Colbert soften, smile around him. Not watching gentle hands, wrapped around Nate's head, leaning in for a kiss. Not seeing that clear message, in Colbert's eyes.


End file.
